In My Thoughts I Often Find You
by SuitUpBatman
Summary: Castiel moves to Lawrence, Kansas and buys a '67 Chevy Impala at a police auction on a whim. It has a few kinks so he takes it to Singer's Auto where the head mechanic is handsome Dean Winchester. Castiel has never had a crush before, but after a few drinks he realizes he's got it bad. What will happen with these new feelings he's discovered?
1. Chapter 1

*****Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Supernatural and this work is completely fictional. Also any mentions of actual places/things is not guaranteed to be accurate and is written to be completely fictional also.*****

Dean didn't want to sell the impala. Not when it was such a great car and had so much history in the family. As it turns out though, when your father dies leaving only his insurance to cover the funeral, and not enough for Dean and Sam to live on as a 17 and 12 year old, you have to give up the most valuable thing you own. Dean and Sam's father John died in a car crash with his friend who was driving him home from work. Dean couldn't bear to hear the news when it came at midnight on a Friday from the Sheriff's department. John had died instantly in a collision with a semi; his friend Rufus later died in ICU. 1996 was not Dean's favorite year at all.

Of course John did leave what little he had to his two boys, since Mary, their mother, died years ago in a house fire. Because of said fire, they lived in a small trailer, thus handing over the mortgage to Dean. Remaining was the impala, which Dean knew he had to sell, so that he and Sam could survive. The State didn't come in to try to take them until three weeks after John's death, but by then, Dean was eighteen. He signed the adoption papers and paid the fees, which Dean full-hearted called bullshit on.

Dean found a man who was very interested in the sleek '67 Chevy Impala by the name of Fergus Crowley. He had dark hair gelled back with a spattered beard; he wore a dark violet pinstripe suit and spoke with a thick accent Dean couldn't place.

"You're making a wise decision selling me this car, Mr. Winchester," and didn't it make Dean cringe how he swept a hand over the hood of the impala. Crowley pulled an envelope with $26,000 in cash and gestured for the title. Dean looked at it and grimaced, but he couldn't back out now. No matter how much the car meant to him, or especially how much it meant to his father, he couldn't have it now. Sam needed him and he needed him to have money to take care of him. Dean slapped the title down in Crowley's hand and was given the envelope. Dean quickly counted the money while Crowley started the car.

"Ta-ta," Crowley said, driving away as Dean counted the last hundred. He watched until the taillights were no longer visible and scuffed his feet on the ground. He walked to the bus stop so he could go home to Sam, who he'd had to leave alone. Dean was able to buy the rest of the mortgage on the trailer for $8,000, when they had $10,000 left to pay on it. Dean felt relief at something going right for them, considering everything else.

The next six years of their lives went by as they usually would. They eventually got used to being each other's only company; a life without a father, just like getting used to a life without a mother. Dean found a job at an auto shop after deciding it'd be best to drop out of high school. He knew the money from the impala wouldn't last forever, so when he heard Singer's Auto Shop was hiring, he went and talked with the family friend. Bobby didn't like the idea of hiring a teenager, but Dean was eighteen, and he knew Dean learned a lot about cars from his father. Given the circumstances, Bobby obliged and gave Dean the job.

Dean easily took his knowledge of mechanics and became a useful employee for Bobby. He started off with simply jobs, like working the automatic car wash and doing oil changes. Soon Bobby trusted him with more complex jobs like repairing engines and restoring body work. Dean was able to fully restore a car from almost nothing by the time he was twenty. When he was twenty-two, Bobby pulled him into his office and said he was getting too old to be head mechanic, and that maybe Dean would want the job.

"I ain't going anywhere anytime soon," Dean replied eagerly. Since then, Dean has been in charge of all the work going into the cars. Bobby took management position, handling customers, other employees, and sometimes changing a battery here and there. This past year Dean even became assistant manager, putting in even more hours, helping Bobby manage finances and inventory.

In 2002, Dean had been saving up because Sammy came home from Career Day at high school one day in 1999 and said he wanted to be a lawyer. Dean knew right away that Sam could do it, and that he would be a damn good lawyer. He'd be a moral one, and always fight cases for the people who didn't do it, and even take cases for free, because Dean knew that's the kind of lawyer Sam would be. Sam decided right away that he wanted to attend Stanford, and Dean agreed because he wanted Sam to have the best. Dean also realized that it wasn't going to be cheap, so he started saving and after three years had $55,000. That's when Sam came home one night from Senior Awards that Dean couldn't make because of work and said he earned a full-ride to his choice college (being Stanford, of course).

"Now all I have to do is walk at graduation," Sam beamed with that Sam smile of his. The next week he would graduate with honors and as, you guessed, Valedictorian. Dean still offered up his saving to Sam, California being the expensive place it is. Sam declined though, the full-ride also covering his dorm and meal expenses.

"As long as I get A's, I'll be taken care of," Sam said his smile now soft.

"You better," Dean mumbled.

"Dean, you've taken care of me my whole life… even before Dad… left us. You have it, please, do something that will make you happy. Go find and buy back the impala if that will make you happy." Dean really did love his brother especially sometimes. After his third or so week of working, Dean finally had to buy a car of his own. It had been too much effort to go to work in the afternoons and pick up Sammy from school, because he didn't want him to ride the bus alone. He found a '96 green Cavalier for only a few hundred dollars, because he had to fix it up himself, which he did easily in six weeks. Dean adored his little car, but really missed the Impala.

After moving Sam out to California a month later, Dean did look up Fergus Crowley. The old number he had didn't work, but Dean wasn't expecting it to, not after six years. The number he found in the phone book didn't work either though. Dean found out after personal detective work that all of Crowley's possessions were seized by the police when the IRS caught on to his tax fraud. Crowley in turn fled to Mexico and wasn't incarcerated. Dean was heartbroken that his prized car was now the property of the Topeka Police Department, probably doomed to sit in an impound lot for the rest of time.

So now, in 2005, Dean holds onto the hope of coming across another '67 Chevy Impala, and a small part of that hope being that it'll be his father's. Until then, he's content with his Cavalier and continues in a job he will never leave because of his love for it. Sam is on his junior year of his undergraduate, and is engaged to a beautiful woman named Jessica.

It is early spring when Dean has a day off from Springer's Auto after working six days in a row. He wakes up around 10 a.m. and pads out of his bedroom into the kitchen. He sleepily pours himself a cup of Folger's coffee from the alarm set coffee machine. Dean sneers at the scarcity that is the space of his fridge and decides against an attempt to make breakfast with one egg and iffy looking ham. He hears his cell buzzing on the countertop and reads 'Sammy' on the front screen.

"Hey!" Dean answers the phone after flipping it open to his ear.

"Hello, Dean," Sam greets warmly. "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful brother. How are you?" Dean sits backwards at one of the two chairs he has left for his dining set.

"Fantastic," Sam starts, "look, I don't have a lot of time because I'm walking between classes, but I wanted to check to see what day you were flying in for me and Jess's wedding?"

Dean hesitates, "Um… you know, that Wednesday," he lies.

"We're getting married on a Wednesday." Dean can hear the bitchface, "Um…"

"Dean, did you forget?" Sam sounds hurt.

"No, I meant the week before, alright?" Dean had forgotten and he feels sick in his stomach for being so absent minded.

"…okay. Five weeks, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I love you."

"You too… bitch."

A huff of laughter, "Jerk." And they hang up.

Dean sighs, staring down at the retched piece of technology that always brings him sour feelings. Sam had told him three months ago he proposed to his eight month girlfriend and Dean had been so excited. Really. But he had been working on a '82 Jaguar at the time that Dean was completely enveloped in. The Jaguar soon had him forgetting that Sam asked him to be his best man, to fly to California before April 12th and maybe even give him a bachelor party. Dean digs up his phone book and calls the booking number at the airport in Kansas City.

"You've successfully booked a flight for April 5th at 6:55 a.m.," an automated voice tells Dean. "You'll be on a non-stop flight to the San Francisco International Airport. You'll arrive at approximately 10:40 a.m. Thank you for your business." Dean sighs again. He will have to request days off at work. Dean hasn't asked for a day off since he first started, the exception being a day when he couldn't stop throwing up.

Dean figures today is as good a day as any to talk to Bobby and that he could go grab a bite to eat afterwards. Dean takes a ten minute shower and pulls on an emerald green shirt, loose jeans, and his worn leather jacket. He knocks the mud off his boots on the side of his no-longer white trailer before tugging them on. He leaves after locking the front door and hops into his Cavalier. He drives the eight blocks to Singer's Auto, too short a trip for the entirety of _Crazy_ _Train_ by Ozzy Osborne.

Dean pulls in back, uses his keys to go directly into Bobby's office which is sans Bobby. Dean spots him through the pane window of the office in the rear of the garage, speaking with an apparent customer. The man has unkempt auburn hair and is covered securely by a tan trench coat even though it's an easy seventy degrees outside. It appears to be over a navy blue suit, which makes even Dean feel warm. Guys in suits usually bring in luxury cars and Dean guesses from this man in particular, that he has a black or white Benz, not older than five years.

Bobby and the man talk for a few minutes, handing him a small paper, and shakes his hand. Bobby glances over and spots Dean, who is now sitting in his boss's chair with his feet on the desk. He scowls and walks into his office.

"Boy, I thought I told you I didn't wanna see your ugly mug for at least two days."

"I'm not gonna work Bobby," Dean laughs.

"And git your feet down, only I'm allowed to do that," Bobby berates him. Dean stands up and smiles, letting Bobby settle into his chair.

He then asks, "Look, er, I came in because… you know how I said Sammy's gettin' hitched? Well that's in a few weeks and I'm gonna need… eight days off?" Dean figures he'd fly there on that Wednesday and fly back the same day Sam leaves for his honeymoon.

"It's about time you asked for time off, you damned workaholic. Of course you can have the time. Take two weeks even," Bobby shakes his head and moves stuff around on his desk.

"Bobby, I really only need…"

"Take two weeks before you drive me nuts," he grumbles.

"Thank you, Bobby," Dean clasps him on the shoulder.

"Idjit," Bobby says under his breath. "Uh, though, before you do go, you might wanna take a look at what the guy in the oversize trench coat brought."

"Why, he didn't bring in some lux?" Dean jokes, starting for the garage.

"Well your old man had-" Dean stops his stride and turns on his heels faster than Bobby says, "one".

"What? He has an impala?" Dean almost exclaims.

"Yeah, he says-" Bobby starts but Dean stops listening, already turned back around and jogging into the garage. Four cars down, he sees her: '67 Chevy Impala, in shiny charcoal black.

"Oh, baby," Dean whispers out loud, excitement apparent in shaking hands as he paces over and peers through the driver's window. The confirmation he needs is still stuck in the passenger door handle; a small, green army man that Sam got stuck when he was six. This was his father's car, his precious treasure. Dean stands up straight, mouth gaping, and is then startled by the new owner.

"Beauty, right?" The man speaks in a gravelly voice with a tone that asks instead of boasts. He holds blue eyes on Dean from about a foot from him, close enough for Dean to see stubble on the man's chin as he turns to him.

"Sure is," Dean speaks softly. He snaps from his daze over his lost possession so that he may greet the man. "Name's Dean. I'm the head mechanic here."

"Castiel," the man shakes Dean's hand, face never leaving serious.

"So what seems to be the issue?" Dean finally asks.

"Mr. Singer actually gave me a list." He proceeds to pass it to Dean who glances over it.

Oil change. Battery acidic. Crack, rear window. Missing passenger exterior mirror. Dent, passenger door. Multiple upholstery cracks/tears. Both taillights need replacement.

_Oh, baby, what'd he do to you?_ Dean thinks to himself.

"I actually just bought it at a police auction and wanted to see the shape it was really in besides the obvious wear. My brother has a big thing for auctions over in Topeka…" he trails off, almost as if he's unsure of himself. "Anyways, this one came on the lot for 18k and I ended up bidding on and wining it."

Dean had gone back in a daze. "Why'd you buy it?" He blurts out, make Castiel jumps slightly. He looks at Dean with wide eyes for a moment then shrugs his shoulders.

"I've never had a classic car, or really an interest in them… but I've been looking to buy a car anyways. It just… felt right in the moment to bid on it." _Yeah, right because of adrenaline and a pocket full of cash apparently, _Dean comments in his head. Castiel rubs the back of his neck, stretching it out.

"Seriously?" Dean's eyebrows threaten to rise into his hairline. "You just bought an $18,000 car on a whim?"

"It actually came up to $22,000," Castiel replies blatantly.

Dean gapes at him a moment then nods with an 'okay'. "Look, for a special car like this, it should be handled by an expert who knows what she needs; otherwise she's not really whole."

"What do you suggest?" Castiel asks sternly, taking a step closer in the already limited space between them.

Dean leans back on his heels in response and says, "I'll do you a favor: I'll fix her up properly, so she looks brand new, and I'll just charge you for the labor, okay?"

"Why would you do that?" Castiel tilts his head to the side, squinting at Dean.

"I used to-" Dean stops himself. He thinks maybe it isn't the right time to tell Castiel he was the now owner of his old vehicle. Maybe Castiel would decide he didn't really like classic cars after all and resell it to Dean. The thought made Dean's skin crawl with anticipation. "I used to own an old car like this. It's just out of respect for a classic." Dean gives him a charming grin.

"Okay," Castiel quirks a small smile back at Dean.

"Sweet," Dean heartily shakes Castiel's hand again. "Give me two weeks. Does that work for you?"

"That's perfect," he answers, a little excitement in his voice. Castiel hands over the keys and Dean makes sure he has all the right information from him before he leaves the garage.

"That impala is my project Bobby," Dean announces as he walks into his office again. "I'll order the parts and everything, just let me have her," Dean pleads.

"Okay, boy," Bobby replies slowly, looking up from some paperwork.

"Thanks Bobby. It really is important I do this."

Castiel walks slowly down the sidewalk away from Singer's Auto. He's used to walking and taking the bus, since for the past eight months he's been doing just that. He moved to America from Canada because of reasons Castiel still hasn't come to terms with. He started north and kept heading south until he came to Lawrence, Kansas. His brother Gabriel lives in Topeka, but Castiel has never liked the big cities and prefers the smaller version Kansas has to offer. Nowhere else has worked thus far, so he thought he'd at least be close to the one family member he does talk to. Castiel has a trust fund that has allowed him so many moves. When he purposely totaled his car a week ago (again, for reasons Castiel isn't quite sure of), Gabriel offered to take him to the auction. And like Castiel told Dean, it just _felt_ right to buy it.

So now Castiel is in Kansas, in search of a job. Not for the money; he still has plenty in his trust fund. He wants a job because he's found that's the most satisfying use of his time, and usually he makes a friend. He read in the _Lawrence Times_ a couple days ago of an opening for a bartender at _The Roadhouse_. Castiel doesn't have an experience as a bartender, but he's a fast learner and has had numerous jobs in the restaurant industry.

Castiel has never needed to work because of lack of money; he grew up on it and he's smart with what he's given. He's put into stocks and bonds so that when his trust fund runs out, he has access to more. Castiel originally started working because he couldn't stand being in a house where his older brothers constantly bickered. His mother never said anything about it and his father was always at work or away for his business.

Castiel developed an appreciation for working though. He loves getting his hands dirty, learning a new skill, doing work with his time that means something, no matter how small a task it is. Plus he loves being around people and getting to know them, even though it may be from a distance because interaction is somewhat strenuous for him. For awhile Castiel did go to college and earned a bachelor's degree in accounting, but to him, accounting wasn't something that meant a whole lot to the world. He left his first salary job because of this, not content with it, and no longer eager to please his father who suggested accounting in the first place.

Castiel slumps his shoulders slightly as he boards the bus. He nods with pursed lips at the bus driver as he puts his fare into the money box. He finds a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus. He stares out the window and watches for nine blocks as cars and people pass by. He pulls the 'stop chord' when the bus is close to Maple Park Drive, a block down from _The Roadhouse_.

It feels like only a few seconds before Castiel is standing in front of the restaurant slash bar and he swallows a lump in his throat. His palms are sweaty and it takes him a few moments before he's able to pull open the heavy door, mostly due to the fact that it's supposed to be pushed. With the push, a bell rings above his head as he steps over the threshold. The place is lit simply by sunlight pouring through windows whose curtains aren't yet pulled close for the night. He spies a man across the bar sleeping on a pool table, who stirs slightly but doesn't appear to waken.

"Hello?" Castiel calls out the question, softer than he intends.

"We're not open yet hon. Come back at two," a middle aged woman with long brown hair steps out and answers him. Castiel stares down at his watch; 11:15.

"Um, I'm not here for business hours," he swallows again. "F-for something else."

"Yeah, like to rob us?" Another woman's voice asks from behind him. He feels something hard press into the middle of his back. Castiel immediately recognizes it. His eyes widen and he automatically reacts, whirling on the girl with the rifle, snatching it away from her, and then turning it on her. The blonde stands back and Castiel comes flooding back from his slight out-of-body experience.

He unloads the three rounds with one hand and grimly says, "No." He twists around to the other woman and isn't surprised she has a gun pointed at him. Castiel sets the gun down on the nearest table and raises his hands.

"I'm here about the bartender job," he murmurs simply, then attempts a smile. The woman looks him over a moment more before lowering her gun.

"Well, I'm Ellen, and I own this bar. That's my daughter Joanna." Ellen nods at the blonde.

"It's Jo, and sorry. The trench coat really makes you seem shady. Think about losing it." She shrugs her shoulders as she retrieves her gun and sends Castiel a smile before leaving through a swinging door. Castiel's blue glare follows her movements closely then returns to Ellen.

"I only have three requirements for a bartender: the ability to break up a fight, someone who can hold their liquor, and a server's license." Ellen sets her shotgun on a shelf below the bar and offers her hand.

"I apologize for pointing a gun at your daughter," Castiel speaks sincerely as he moves forward to shake Ellen's hand. "It was an automatic reaction."

"It was badass, that's what it was," a man with a mullet sidles up to Ellen. Castiel realizes with a quick glance that it's the man previously sleeping on the pool table. "Name's Ash, bro." Castiel moves his hand over to shake his hand, but in return gets a side slap on his palm that he takes as a not-so-high five.

"Castiel," he says briefly.

"Now we have a name," Ellen smiles, relief from some tension Castiel doesn't understand shining in her eyes.

"More like a Cas," Ash stands back smugly. "I like him, Ellen." Ash leaves through the same door as Jo did.

"It's Castiel," he yells after him. He looks down at nothing, confused by the nickname. _Cas, hmmm…_ Castiel shakes his head.

"So, you can take care of yourself, which means you can probably break up a brawl in here. What about my other two qualifications?" Ellen questions.

"Yes, I've already arranged for the server's license and, well…" He pauses, unsure if he should fess up, "I'm not much of a drinker. If I'm the bartender, why does that matter?"

"It does because it's part of my standards for an employee. Withstanding temptation when it's right in front of you and such." Ellen pulls a bottle labeled 'scotch' from the shelf behind her. Castiel purses his lips and nods. He doesn't hesitate to down the first shot as soon as Ellen pours it. He shudders slightly but stays straight-faced nonetheless.

"Okay," he nods again.

"Oh, you're getting more than one shot Castiel," Ellen laughs. Forty-five minutes later and half a bottle of 70% proof scotch, Castiel is staring dead-face at Ellen. How they ended up in a staring contest was due to Ellen's absolute disbelief that Castiel wasn't the least bit drunk after twelve shots. "Not a drinker, eh?"

"I have drunk beer before but never enjoyed the taste. Otherwise, no," Castiel admits fully. Ellen blinks first.

"Damn, boy. What's your secret?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," he squints at her. Ellen scoffs and smiles, pouring another shot, this time drinking it herself.

"Alright." Ellen bends down and comes back up with a different bottle. "This is 96% proof scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland. Strongest stuff I'll buy. If you can handle this, you've got the job."

It is five minutes later, after the shot that burned down Castiel's throat, that he states, "I think I'm starting to feel something." He sits down on a bar stool for the first time since they've started. Ellen throws up her arms and starts laughing, coming around the bar to hug Castiel around the shoulders.

"Ash!" Ellen calls out. She gets a 'yeah?' in response. "Bring out that paperwork you made up so Castiel can fill it out." Ash just yells back a 'woohoo'. Castiel's eyes glaze over for a minute and he begins to believe he may have given himself alcohol poisoning. He's clear enough to reason that though, so he might just be a little buzzed. A few minutes later, Castiel is rocking slightly as he's filling out paperwork, Ash sitting boastfully by his side. When Castiel finishes (and stops rocking), Ash offers to show him around _The Roadhouse_.

After extensively fondling over the impala, Dean's stomach finally beckons him to leave the garage. He goes to Pete's Burgers and gets a sack with two burgers and two large fries. With this exciting news, Dean feels he should share it with his longtime friend Jo. Friends since high school, Jo is the only person Dean's felt comfortable getting close to. She was supportive of Dean when his dad died and she's the only one besides Sam that knows he had to sell the impala. He leaves the drive through and heads over to _The Roadhouse_.

"Ellen, Jo, Ash," Dean calls out over the ring when he enters the bar. Jo jogs out and automatically smiles at Dean.

"Hey," she smiles again and hugs him around the neck.

"I gotta tell ya something," he says right away, "brought Pete's." Dean raises the already greasy bag.

"Cool," Jo snatches the bag from him and picks out a fry. "Lemme ask mom if she needs anything else for the new guy, then we'll go outside."

"New guy?" Dean asks, following her behind the bar into the kitchen.

"Yeah, Dean-O," Ash answers when they enter. "Meet Cas!" He gestures as Castiel comes to stand beside him. Castiel didn't realize before when he meet Dean how green his eyes were or how handsome his freckles actually made him. Castiel takes the time to scan over Dean and the thoughts he has make him blush.

"Ope, you're getting flushed. Alcohol finally hittin' yah?" Ash says, grabbing onto Castiel's shoulder in case he decided he wanted to fall over.

"I thought it was Castiel," Dean smirks and Castiel does feel like he might topple over.

"Oh, you've met already?" Ash stares between the two.

"Yeah," Castiel finally speaks, "I dropped off, um, car at-" Castiel points and nods towards Dean.

"You got him drunk?" Dean asks of Ash, clearly amused at Castiel's lack of ability to put together a sentence.

"Yeah, well, Ellen did. He's the new bartender."

"Ah, that didn't take long for you guys," Dean smiles at Castiel and this one for some reason makes his knees rubbery. He stables his suddenly weak legs with the kitchen island. Dean moves before Ash and wraps an arm around Castiel to assist him back out into the dining area. He helps him take a seat, but Castiel still feels lightheaded. He can still feel Dean's strong arms around his waist and imagines them all around his body.

Now Castiel was sure he was drunk. He never before showed interest in any love partners before, plus why didn't he find Dean interesting earlier at the garage? He didn't think about being in love much and preferred to observe other's interactions. He actually didn't see the point if all relationships ended up how his parents did; never actually together and with fighting children.

At that moment though, Castiel finally understood what a crush was. The realization made his heart flutter and he didn't much care if it was because of the alcohol or not. This made him further realize that he was probably gay. This could further explain his disinterest in love, being that all his potential partners were reasonably female. It didn't bother Castiel. He knew it'd bother his close-minded, bible thrumming, Christian family but he really didn't care. Castiel never understood their reasoning against gays being as procreation is no longer a problem. They always ended any discussion of gays with, "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." Castiel mentally shrugs before coming back to the world where a green eyed beauty is crouching in front of him.

"Cas? You alright?" Dean asks slowly, no longer snapping his fingers at Castiel.

"Cas-" Castiel is about to correct him, but he likes the thought of the nickname coming from Dean's mouth. He attempts to compose himself.

"Yes?" he squeaks, his voice not as strong as he wants.

"I asked if you're doing okay," Dean replies with a soft smile that makes Castiel think he could probably summon every fluffy animal in a twenty-five mile radius and make them go 'aww'.

"And I said 'yes'," Castiel nods acutely.

"Oh, okay." By this time Jo had already eaten through her bag of fries and started on Dean's. She wipes her hand on her jeans, and clears her throat to get Dean's attention.

"Alright, drink some of this water," a glass was in front of Castiel, "and you should feel better in no time Cas," Dean reassures him, standing up.

"Thank you," Castiel says lamely, feeling himself blushing again.

"Bummer," Ash steps forward and Castiel spies in his peripheral vision Dean leaving through the front door with Jo. He should have guessed a guy that looks like Dean was already taken, and probably straight. "I really thought you'd hold out," Ash says but Castiel isn't listening. "But as far as being drunk goes, you're pretty tough." Castiel feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and then hears footsteps fade away. Castiel finds himself going through his thoughts of Dean and clearing them. If Dean is dating Jo, there's no point in him pursuing his newfound discovery of both what a crush feels like and that he's gay. Castiel lets it go and no longer feels flushed or weak legged. A tight knot stays in his chest however. Castiel writes it off as a side-effect of the alcohol.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo pulls out her lukewarm burger after hopping onto the trunk of Dean's Cavalier. She hands the bag over to Dean who frowns at his half-eaten bag of fries. He gives Jo a disapproving look.

"Sorby," she says out of the corner of a mouth stuffed with burger. She swallows. "Castiel made me nervous so I just kept eating?" She makes the excuse for herself.

"So he's the new bartender though? I didn't peg him for the type," Dean says, then takes a huge bite out his own burger and moans in approval.

"Yeah," Jo replies, managing a smaller bite. "Mom says he drank half a bottle of scotch and held the Laphroaig Quarter, so she's impressed. He did turn my own gun on me-" Jo cuts off because of the slack-jawed, mush filled mouth Dean's gaping at her. "It was a misunderstanding okay?" Dean slowly closes his mouth and goes back to chewing. "Anyways, enough about Castiel, what's you exciting news?" She asks cheerily.

Dean finishes his bite and chuckles, "It, uh, actually does have to do with Castiel. He brought in a car to the garage." Dean eats a fry.

"So what? He seems like drives a lux, right?" Dean's noticed Jo pays attention when he talks about cars, and that makes him grin.

"That's what I thought too but he brought in a classic," Dean hides his smile now.

"Oh, wow. What year?"

"'67."

"Dean…" Jo raises her voice slightly, her hand clutching his arm tightly.

"Yeah, it's the impala," Dean opens up his mouth with a toothy smirk.

"Whoa, seriously?" Jo almost leaps off the trunk onto Dean. "So you tell him it's yours?" Jo gleams.

"It's not mine Jo. Cas owns it."  
"Oh, you know what I mean, don't give me that. You took care of that thing as much as you took care of Sam. You were heartbroken for weeks after you had to sell it to that douche bag, Cruely or whatever his name was. If any one thing is a part of your soul, it is that car." Jo's death grip on Dean's forearm makes him wince. Jo notices and releases with an apology.

"Look, my-the," Dean gives Jo a warning look, "Castiel's car needs a few touch-ups. I'm gonna fix them for him. Maybe then, you know, convince him that he needs a car more suited for him." Dean glances at Jo and takes another bite of his burger, less satisfied with it now for some reason. Jo raises her brows and says a small, "Okay".

Dean manages to finish his burger before Jo does, even though she started first. She's fiddling with her last bite when she perks up, "So what do _you_ think of Castiel?" Jo side glances a smile at Dean.

"He seems like a nice guy… something maybe a bit awkward about him though," Dean replies, wiping his hands off on an already dirty napkin.

"No," Jo holds out the word, "do you think he's cute?" Dean automatically blushes and he rubs a hand in his hair. Dean had a couple flings in high school with guys and a short relationship with a classmate named Andy, but he never considered himself gay. He loves women way too much. He did find Castiel attractive, but he wasn't going to admit that to Jo just yet.

"I like his eyes," Dean mumbles, resulting in a squeal from Jo.

"Guess I should go get the kitchen ready," Jo says after checking her phone for the time. She hops down from Dean's car using his shoulder for leverage. "Come order a drink from Cas," Jo winks at Dean walking backwards towards the bar. "He should be training tonight."

Dean seriously considers it, but decides against it. "Maybe later," he shouts at Jo as she goes in the front door. Dean quirks a small smile and climbs into his car.

Castiel is feeling better now that Dean isn't in the vicinity. He's leaning against the fridge in the kitchen when Jo comes in.

"Do you know anything about cooking?" she asks him.

"A lot actually," he answers blanchly. Jo heats up the griddles, fryers, and fills up the dish sink.

"Good," she eventually says during her prepping activities. "You can help if I ever need it."

"Who all works here?" Castiel asks, peering around the refrigerator door after being pushed aside.

"Ash does books and finances. Mom and I do kitchen. Two girls named Meg and Lisa do waitressing. We all do everything when needed," she explains.

"Who used to be the bartender?" This makes Jo stop in her tracks.

"A man named Chuck," she says softly before going back to the fryer. Castiel takes that as a sign he shouldn't ask what happened to him. The air is now thick so he decides to leave the kitchen in favor of going into Ellen's office.

"Hey," she greets.

"Do you have a drink mix guide?" Castiel asks rightly. Ellen looks up from her notebook with an 'are you kidding?' glance.

When Castiel doesn't say anything else, she says, "Um, no. But you can use my computer to look up our menu drinks. Shots are just straight whatever they want and you can also Google popular drinks that might not be on our menu. Anything not listed is $3.50. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods.

Ellen laughs, "Don't call me that, sweetie."

"Alright," Cas replies with wide eyes. She leaves the office a few minutes later to join Jo. Castiel uses Ellen's computer, looking up margaritas, cocktails, and a drink called Vanilla Vodka Ice-Cream, that even Castiel is interested in trying. He makes mental note of each drink's ingredients after reading them all twice. Castiel has always had an excellent memory and this job seems like a great time to utilize it. While studying the structure of a Bloody Mary, Ash strolls into the office.

"Alright, if you're going to be the bartender, you gotta have the look. This," he gestures to Castiel's apparel, "is too old man."

Castiel decides not to take offense to the remark, but instead says, "What do I need?" Ash makes due with what Cas has on, but tells him he needs to buys some jeans ASAP.

"I've never worn jeans," he murmurs and Ash proceeds to flip out. Ellen interrupts Ash's freaking out and Castiel's confusion.

"Ash, please show him where everything on the bar is." Ash shrugs his shoulders and says, "C'mon."

Castiel adds the location of the bottles to his memory bank of everything he's learned about alcohol. He formulates the quickest methods of serving drinks based on their locations. He learns which beers are on tap and how and where to change the kegs.

"Ellen will be bartending tonight and you'll just be watching, until you get your license, m'kay?" Castiel nods in response. "I'm excited. I'm kind of tired of working in the kitchen," he huffs, and then leaves Cas to further examine the placement of things on the bar.

At ten minutes to two, Ellen comes out of the kitchen, wiping a sweaty forehead with a dish towel. She goes to the front door, propping it ajar and turning on the 'Open' sign. Castiel joins her in closing the blinds and turning on little fake candles in the middles of the tables. Jo pops her head out of the kitchen and smiles at Cas. She flips on the low overhead lights, the bar lights, and then heads back into the kitchen. Ellen also smiles and goes over to the bar and calls over Castiel.

"I like the look," she says. Ash had convinced Cas it was okay to just wear his white undershirt and rolled up the sleeves to his shoulders. He still has on his blue slacks, but Ash took the belt so they would rest on his hips instead of above his belly button. He also let Cas borrow some tennis shoes, saying his dress shoes would be too slick for the tile floor and 'who wants to fall on their ass their first day working'.

The afternoon is fairly uneventful; a few stragglers who only order beer and appetizers come in. All the customers seem really friendly and like the conversation Ellen supplies. The thought of actually talking to these strangers makes Castiel nervous, yet hopeful that he'll finally break from his shell. Into the evening, there are more people, enough to have Ellen running to the kitchen between bar orders. Castiel supplies an, "Ellen will be right back" to every customer that sits at the bar.

The rush hour is between seven and eight o' clock and right at 8:02, it's as if someone turns everything off. Everyone has a drink or is eating their orders; no one is left for want. Castiel marvels at the simultaneousness and it brings all the staff a moment of tranquility. This lasts for about ten minutes before the last of the restaurant goers pile in. The kitchen closes at nine, but it seems as if people stop ordering around 8:30. It's about 9:20 when a lot of the bar crowd shows up and Castiel gets the opportunity to chat with one of the customers.

"So why aren't you serving me my Mojito?" A charming British man with blond hair and hazel eyes asks Cas. He swallows the dryness in his throat and hides his nervousness.

"It's my first night, just training," Cas replies, carefully deciding to lean on the bar with his left elbow.

"Ah," the man smiles, and Castiel feels like he can sense his awkwardness.

"Erm, what are you doing on a night like this?" He lets slip. This earns an automatic laugh from the man, "Enjoying a drink." He seems to like the question though. Castiel meant to ask why he's out drinking, but it didn't quite come out that way. Castiel sighs and rubs his neck.

"What's your name handsome?" He asks, and this makes Cas blush.

"Castiel," he says bashfully.

"Really?" The man seems intrigued. "Similar to the angel Cassiel?" Cas's head shoots up from bowing down at the floor.

"Yes, exactly," he brightens up. "My mother has a love of angelic names. My brothers also have angel names: Gabriel, Michael, and Lucifer." Castiel has only found a couple people he didn't have to explain his namesake to, being a preacher and his Renaissance professor back in college.

"What a coincidence," the man says, "my name is Balthazar."

"Oh wow!" Castiel beams. "Yes, my mother told me of Balthazar the Angel. He was originally one of three magi that brought a gift to Jesus and was rewarded in Heaven for his protection of the child when questioned by King Herod. What did he bring Jesus again?"

"I'm pleased you know the story. He brought the Babe frankincense," he smiles at Castiel warmly. They talk more about angels for two Mojitos before Ellen says she wants to show Castiel a house specialty drink.

"Of course," Cas says. Balthazar leaves his tab and a business card for Castiel.

"Give me a call," he winks and leaves with a smile. Cas pockets the card with his own smile and studies Ellen's specialty drink. He didn't know so many types of alcohol could be in one dink. He wonders if it would do a better job at getting Castiel drunk. Ellen must have been wondering too, because she offers him one.

"You can make it if you're drinking it," she reasons. Castiel would've objected but he wants to try mixing a drink. He starts with one shot of whiskey, adds white tequila, orange liqueur and then tops it off with lemon/lime juice and raspberry syrup. He gets the _Crazy Paradise Margarita_ down in one minute.

"Still nothing." Ellen grimaces in defeat.

Last call is at 1:45 a.m. and the remaining three customers are shooed out a two. Jo and the two waitresses had already cleaned the kitchen and left for the night. Apparently Ash had a personal office and room in the back that he had already passed out in. Ellen goes to the back while Castiel wipes down the bar. They meet again half an hour later and Ellen is impressed that all the bottles are in their rightful slots again and that he swept and mopped. Most newbies forget that it's part of clean-up.

"I think you'll do just fine," Ellen says, pleased with him. They walk out of the bar together and Ellen locks the front door.

"You need a ride?" she asks. _No buses run at night_, Castiel thinks. He _could_ walk.

"No, someone's picking me up," he lies.

"Okay, hon. See you tomorrow. Good night," she waves and drives away in a Camero. Castiel waved back and waits until he no longer sees her car before walking down the street. He had traded back his shoes and had his dress shirt back on without buttoning it. His tie was folded in his trench coat which Castiel had draping over his arm. He breathes in the night air contently and strolls down the street.

Dean spent his afternoon napping and watching The Dark Knight, having to rewind it every time he dozed off. He finally finishes and decides to go take at nap around 3:30. He strips down to boxers and flops on his bed without regard to covers. His nap turns into a full nine hour sleep and he wakes at one in the morning feeling groggy. Dean's not used to sleeping so long so he doesn't go back to sleep.

He watches TV, flipping to Three's Company, which he would never admit to loving. When King of the Hill comes on at 2:20, Dean's stomach says that it's hungry. Dean gets clothes on and figures Taco Bell is the only place open this late. He drives downtown and gets a Mexican pizza. The half asleep worker at the drive-thru window hands Dean's food after it's paid for without an attempt to wish him a 'good night'.

"You too, buddy," Dean says loudly and drives away with a smile. Dean always has felt lucky; he is a night owl of course but since he does early work hours, he's also become a morning bird. He's never slept normal hours, so it doesn't matter much to him anyways.

Dean is jamming out to his Metallica tape when he passes a man. At first glance, the man didn't look like he was homeless and was pretty sure he was wearing a suit. Dean looks in the rearview mirror and spies a tan trench coat in the man's arms. Dean immediately slows down and drives in reverse until he's besides the man.

Dean puts the car in 'park' and jumps out closing his door. Castiel is still walking forward when he calls back without looking at Dean.

"I don't need a ride and I have mace."

Dean grins and replies, "Is it for sell?"

Castiel stops and turns, a smile coming over his face, "Dean," is all he says.

"Hey," Dean replies, "why you walking around in the middle of the night?"

"Ellen offered me a ride, but I said I already had one," he admits guiltily.

"And you didn't?"

"No," Castiel frowns, "I didn't think it'd be that scary."

Dean laughs a little and purses his lips, then goes over to Cas, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Well, do you want a ride now?"

"Yes, please," Castiel looks at Dean woefully.

He smiles softly at him, "Get in then buddy." Castiel attempts to ignore the swooning of his heart when Dean opens the passenger door for him. Dean had turned down _Enter Sandman_ but Cas hears and recognizes the song.

"Is this Metallica?" Castiel asks when Dean plops into his eat.

"Yeah, I love them," he replies with a shocked smile.

"I haven't heard them in a long time. I was really into hard rock in high school." Dean is so stunned he forgets he's supposed to be driving. Castiel keeps turning out to be the opposite of everything he guesses about him. After a minute he snaps out of it though.

"Dude, that's all I listen to," Dean grins widely. "Er, where do you live?"

"Do you know where Eden Condos is?"

Dean nods and starts driving north. He asks what other bands Castiel was into and is more than excited when he replies with ACDC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Helix, and Iron Maiden as a few. It is a few minutes before they pass Dean's trailer but he doesn't notice. He almost drives past Eden Condos, but Cas breaks conversation to point out the turn. He directs Dean where to park and they continue their discussion.

In the middle of arguing who was the better bassist between Cliff Burton and Rick Savage –Dean was going for Metallica's of course—Castiel yawns.

"Alright," he caves, "you're right. This time," he gives Dean a sleepy smile which Dean absolutely does not find at all adorable.

"I'd talk more, but I have to work later today."

Dean hesitates but then asks straight out, "Wanna meet for lunch at noon?" Castiel gives a contemplating look, holding open his door. "I mean, just so we can talk music some more. I'll take you to work after," he says a bit nervously.

"I'd love to," Castiel says shortly. "Pete's Burgers, noon?"

"Pete's Burgers, noon," he confirms with a bright smile.

"Good night, Dean. Thank you for the ride," Castiel's heart is caught in his throat now.

"G'nite." Castiel closes the door after getting out and walks up the sidewalk to his condo. He fumbles with his keys, but manages to open his door without dropping them. He's stuck on the idea that Dean might've just asked him on a date. He stands up straight from leaning on his door and says bitterly, "Probably not."

Dean watches Castiel until he's inside his apartment and realizes he was definitely checking out his butt. He then notices where he'd taken Castiel: a grand complex. Two story condominiums with a California beach house look and green-clearly up kept lawns, obviously not low-income. Dean wonders what the inside looks like and how Castiel is affording a place like this. And if he can afford a place like this, why he needs the minimum wage job down at the bar. _He also bought the impala_, he thinks as he backs out of the small parking lane and heads home.

Castiel has trouble falling asleep, caught up in Dean and the thrill of going on a date with him at noon. He decides he can call it a date and then ask Dean tomorrow if that's what it really is. Castiel feels like he wants to learn all about Dean and is sure he has a lot of layers to unfold.

Dean stays awake until dawn watching reruns of Dr. Sexy. When Paid Programming comes on and he's starting to doze off, he goes to bed. He falls asleep with thoughts of Castiel and if he dreams of a heated three-way with him and Dr. Sexy, then that's Dean's secret.

Castiel's eyes peek open when the sun finally peeps through his blinds at around ten in the morning. He stretches out under gray silk sheets on his queen size bed. His mind promptly floods with thoughts of a handsome mechanic. Castiel is more than content with taking those thoughts with him into his morning shower.

Castiel slips into some sweats and pulls on his Eagles football hoodie to run down the block to the Kmart. Cas hasn't dressed this casually out in public since he was in his twenties. He takes mental note of his sudden lack of caring how people view his appearance. He follows Ash's advice to pick out 'faded jeans and v-neck shirts'. He spends half an hour browsing all available jeans. He decides he prefers the darker jeans, but grabs faded as well in what he guesses are his size and heads to the dressing room.

He figures out his actual size and picks out seven pairs of each type of jeans. He also grabs a couple more suitable belts. _Ash can just try to make me go without again_, Castiel thinks. He also noticed that it'd probably be more comfortable if he picks out some boxers. Jeans don't really give the room like slacks do to go commando. He grabs a ten pack of what looks like comfortable boxers and heads over to the shirts.

Castiel finds the v-necks and picks out mostly blue ones, ranging from turquoise to navy blue. He also grabs some muscle shirts, all in black. When he checks out at the register a brunette woman asks, "Wardrobe change?"

He smiles and says, "For my job."

She laughs with a 'pff', "Wish I could dress this casual for work. What are you doing?"

"Bartender, down at _The Roadhouse_," he replies, swiping his Mastercard in the machine.

"I'll have to come by," she winks at him and then Castiel gets nervous. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for not freaking out too much. His total comes up to $386.72 and he's surprised by how much cheaper casual clothes turn out to be.

He lugs his ten bags next door to the Payless to pick out tennis shoes. Unable to decide between the all black or blue accented ones, he chooses both and is out of there at exactly 11:35. He berates himself for not getting Dean's number so that he could let him know he would be a little late. Castiel runs the best he can home and does a Superman change. Throwing clothes across his living room, ripping off tags and stickers, he's fully dressed in under three minutes. His untied laces of his black tennies clack underneath his feet as he manages to hop onto the 12 o' clock bus. He rubs his chest which is now throbbing a bit and looks disheartedly at his unstyled hair in the bus window reflection.

Dean taps a sugar packet against the table and glances up at the clock again: 12:10. _He's not too late. Plus, I got here early, so it just seems longer_, Dean reasons. He sips his almost gone Root Beer and sighs. _I should have got his number_. He already decided he'd be getting the double bacon cheeseburger with extra pickles; 12:15. Dean is slightly pouting now and accidently tears open the little blue packet. He looks around warily, and then brushes the tiny, white grains off his table. He looks up to find Castiel smiling at him. _Sure, now he shows up_.

"Hey," Dean greets instead.

"Sorry I'm late," Castiel sits across Dean. "I spent too much time at the store getting new clothes and the bus isn't exactly direct." Cas smiles at Dean warmly, really glad Dean didn't leave after he didn't show up right away.

"It's okay and I like them," Dean replies. He did like his new appearance, a lot. Cas was wearing a light-blue v-neck that showed off his prominent collarbones. He also wore faded jeans that loved the curve of Cas's hips. Yeah, Dean liked it. They walk up to the counter and Castiel orders a double bacon cheeseburger, with extra pickles.

"And whatever he wants," he tells the cashier.

"No man, that's okay," Dean starts.

"Please, as an apology for being late?" And Dean nods because who can disagree with puppy eyes?

"Same thing, please." Castiel smiles and pays.

"You like their double bacon cheeseburger, too?" Cas smirks at Dean.

"Yeah, it's the greatest," Dean agrees.

"When I came into town, first thing I made sure of was the location of a good burger joint. I love the greasy little things."

"Me too," Dean tries not to let his mind race off with how perfect Castiel is for him so far.

"Where'd you move from?" He asks, curious.

"Vancouver," Castiel eventually replies.

It takes Dean a moment, "Canada?"

"Yup," Castiel nods, feeling the question he doesn't want to answer coming up.

"Why the big move?" And there it is. Castile purses his lips and is grateful instead that their order is ready in that moment. He grabs the tray and returns to their booth without waiting for Dean to follow. Dean notices the hunch of Castiel's shoulders and takes the behavior as a sign that he should drop the subject.

"So I was thinking we should swap numbers," Dean says instead. "That way if either one of us gets caught up again, we can call each other." Castiel totally doesn't get excited that that probably means Dean wants to meet up again. Castiel hands him his cell with the 'Add Contact' screen up.

"Yeah, I wanted to call you when I realized I was going to be late and was disappointed I didn't have your number." Dean adds his information and calls his own cell so that he can in turn have Castiel's number. He waves his phone and says, "We're good." He hands Castiel back his phone and they both bite into their burgers, simultaneously groaning in satisfaction.

"You know, I had one of these yesterday," Dean tells him after swallowing his bite, "and I just never get tired of them."

"I doubt I will either," Castiel stuffs another bite in his mouth. Even as good as Pete's Burgers are, the two men find themselves putting them down longer in favor of their conversation. They continue talking about music and half an hour later Castiel still has half a burger left on his tray and Dean a fourth.

"You gotta love America, I mean," Cas starts, "It's the name of our country," they finish together. Then they're laughing together. Dean's phone rings and 'Sammy' is on his screen ID.

"Sorry Cas, but I have to take this; it's my brother," he answers and Castiel nods. "Hey little brother," Dean says to Sam and, "Be right back," to Castiel.

"Who's that? You with someone?" Sam asks. Dean walks out the side glass door and kicks at the rocks on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, so make it snappy, I'm having a good time," he says playfully.

"Oh, yeah? What's her name?" Sam gloats.

"His name is Cas," Dean snaps his jaw tightly.

"Really Dean? You're with a guy? It's been a while and still, no judging… but how'd that-"

"Sam, just shut up." Dean rolls his eyes, "What'd you call about?"

"Oh, right. Just wanted to make sure you bought your airplane ticket."

"I already had-"

"Dean…" Sam says in his warning voice.

"Alright, alright. Yes I did, worry wart. I'll be there around 11 a.m."

"Thanks Dean," and he can hear Sam's smile. "I set up a tux appointment for when you get over here, so you don't have to rent one before you come."

"Okay, thanks."

"Alright, I'll let you get back to your date. I really can't wait to see you."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too, bye," Dean grins and huffs a bit.

"Bye, Dean," Sam hangs up. Dean is grinning from ear to ear but when he turns back to the door to go in, it disappears. He spies a blonde man leaning casually near Castiel, looking too friendly for his liking.


End file.
